Those Left Behind
by Settiai
Summary: Once upon a time, Carver had two sisters.


"Hey there, Junior."

It was the last voice that Carver had expected to hear, but he still didn't bother turning around. He just took another sip of his drink, grimacing a little as it burned its way down his throat. If it was still burning, he hadn't had nearly enough to drink yet.

A hand rested on his arm, and Carver finally reacted. He yanked his arm away, spinning around to face Varric.

"Don't touch me," he said angrily, ignoring the way that the world spun around him ever so slightly. "It's your fault that she's gone."

For just a moment, the too-casual look on Varric's face cracked, giving Carver a glimpse at something much deeper hidden beneath it. Then the mask fell back into place, hiding the utter heartbreak that he'd seen for just an instant.

"Tell me something I don't know," Varric said, his casual tone of voice just a little too forced for Carver to buy the act.

Varric reached past the glass that Carver still had his hands wrapped around and neatly grabbed the half-empty bottle that he'd been pouring from. Without saying another word, he brought it to his mouth and took a large gulp.

Carver couldn't help but let out a dark chuckle at the disgusted look on Varric's face as he swallowed the liquor, studying the bottle in his hand for a moment before putting it back on the table.

"That might be the worst swill I've ever had the displeasure of tasting," Varric said matter-of-factly. "And I've drank something called Dragon Piss."

"I've had worse," Carver said simply, taking another sip of his drink.

Varric studied him for a moment. Then he let out a sigh and grabbed the empty chair to Carver's right, pulling it out and climbing up into it. "How are you doing, Junior?"

Carver pointedly didn't look at him. "I've been better," he said coldly, downing the rest of his drink in one large gulp. He reached for the bottle that Varric had put back down on the table, but Varric reached out and grabbed his arm with a surprisingly firm grip before he could reach it.

"Let go," Carver said, finally looking at Varric again. He narrowed his eyes. "Now."

Varric didn't break his gaze. "No."

Carver opened his mouth to protest.

"Do you really think this is what your sister would want?" Varric asked, cutting him off before he could say a word. "What _either_ of your sisters would want?"

Bethany's face flashed in his mind for a moment, looking so desperately young. The other half of him, gone for so long now. If his attempts to wean himself off lyrium didn't kill him, his attempt to free himself from the chains that he'd willingly let the Chantry put on him, before long he was going to have lived more of his life without her than with her. And that thought terrified him.

And then there was—

"It doesn't really matter what they would have wanted, does it?" Carver asked, and if his voice cracked a little he could blame it on the alcohol. "Because they're both dead."

Varric's mask cracked again for a moment, but he managed to put it back up. Well, almost. Carver didn't think that it quite made its way to his eyes.

"A lot of people are dead, Junior," Varric said tiredly.

Carver snorted. "If you're trying to make me feel better, you're doing a great job."

Varric's mouth twitched, just a little. "Well, you know me."

Carver closed his eyes for a moment. His older sister's face flashed in his memory for a second, wearing that cheeky grin that he'd learned at a young age meant something was about to explode—possibly literally.

"Why her?" he asked quietly.

Varric was staring at him when he finally opened his eyes again, an unusually solemn expression on his face. In all of the years that he'd known the dwarf, Carver wasn't certain he'd ever seen him look that serious.

"Well, you know Hawke," Varric said, and there was no hiding the shakiness in his voice. "Once she made up her mind to do something, nothing and no one in all of Thedas could stop her."

The corner of Carver's mouth curled upwards, but he honestly wasn't certain if he meant it to be a smile or a grimace. "She got that from Father."

It took him a moment to notice that Varric had finally loosened his grip on his arm. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and rested his hand on the bottle that he'd initially been reaching for.

"You sure you want to do that?" Varric asked softly. Without a hint of judgement.

Carver licked his lips. "No," he said reluctantly. "You're right. It's not what they would have wanted."


End file.
